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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24092626">Swing, Smile, Laugh</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naphorism/pseuds/Naphorism'>Naphorism</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Flashpoint (Comics), Justice League: The Flashpoint Paradox</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Blood, Blood and Injury, Broken Bones, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Childhood, Childhood Memories, Crying, Death, Experimental Style, Gen, Laughter, Martha Wayne is Joker (DCU), Not as dark as the tags make it seem, i think</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:46:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>500</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24092626</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naphorism/pseuds/Naphorism</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>How Joker learned to laugh.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Swing, Smile, Laugh</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I’m working on so many things rn that are spiralling out of control in terms of length, so I challenged myself to a 500 word limit. Here’s the result</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She was seven when she broke her arm. It was directly after the first bell rang. She was dawdling on the play structure, not ready to give up on swinging on the monkey bars for the day. It would be a few moments before her mother, waiting for her to enter the school building, would notice that she was not lining up with the other students.</p><p>Swing. Swing. Swing.</p><p>Her hands were sweaty. She felt what was about to occur before it happened, like watching a slow motion video of herself from afar. On a forward swing her small fingers finally slipped from around the metal bar, and she landed two metres away, catching herself on her hands. Her left wrist felt wrong.</p><p>Her mother rushed her to the school office to let the administration know she would be missing that day. They were supposed to go on a class field trip, but through the pain she had not possessed the capacity to be sad about what she was about to miss.</p><p>She has always recalled what her mother said as she picked her up, seeing the unnatural angle at which her arm was bent. Her mother told her to smile.</p><p>Her mother had claimed that when a person smiles, it uses certain muscles. Using these muscles tricks the brain into believing that something is happy. The brain releases dopamine. If you are hurt, the dopamine rush will make it less painful.</p><p>She has never been certain of whether this is true or not, but that day she believed it. There was nothing else to do. She had walked past her classmates, tears running down her reddened cheeks, a grin on her face. That was probably one of the many things she had done that caused her to be labelled as a freak in her elementary school years.</p><p>Smile. Smile. Smile.</p><p>She has always smiled the most when she is sad, since that day. Compensating. Trying to cover tears with laughter, possibly convince herself that she is happy. If she can fool others, she can fool herself.</p><p>Her smile is even more unnatural now, she realises, cradling her son in her arms. But she finds she has a hard time caring if she is acting like a freak. She is still clutching his hand, even as warmth fades from his skin. An open mouthed smile splits her face. Her lipstick feels too thick on her stretched out mouth.</p><p>Smile. Put on a happy face. A smile takes away the pain. Grit your teeth and grin.</p><p>She hears noises jolting out of her in gasps, something akin to crying. Not quite. The same whooping, gulping for air, nonsensical syllables. Wordless yet loud. She realises that though she knows she is crying, the world is seeing laughter.</p><p>Laugh. Laugh. Laugh.</p><p>She thinks the funniest thing of all is the mere idea that someone in her situation could be capable of laughter. And here she is, much more than capable.</p><p>Ha. Ha. Ha.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are my only source of dopamine during quarantine, so they're even more appreciated than usual</p></blockquote></div></div>
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